


All That Was Left

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Bourne (Movies)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-16
Updated: 2008-01-16
Packaged: 2018-01-25 06:21:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1636208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He knows her as who she's become.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All That Was Left

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Melanie-Anne

 

 

Marie is woken up by his voice. The pillow is soft against her head, the sheets that she is lying in are warm. She doesn't want to lift her head or open her eyes, but she listens for some sign that the quiet `hey' that just reached her ears isn't an object of her imagination. It wouldn't be the first time. She's spent the past three months hearing that word, spent the past three months opening her eyes and sitting up, hopeful. Spent the past three months reminding herself that he isn't here. But this-the feel of someone pressing against her frame, a hand sitting on her cheek-this is new. She opens her eyes. `Hey,' Jason says again, softly, as though she hadn't heard. Marie sits up, partially dragging the sheet with her and letting his hand slide down to rest at her elbow. She smiles. The sun flits through gaps in her flat's salvaged blinds, shedding light on the worm beige carpet and gold-painted walls. Normally Marie likes the room's brightness but now she squints, disorientated. The hand upon her stills slightly and she turns around, half expecting for him to be gone somehow. He isn't, and she lets herself be surprised he came for her, despite her undying hope that he would. Hope-she's come to hate that word. Hope was both her only reason for continuing as she did and her only reason for wishing she hadn't. Hope has played with her emotions; all those times she saw a figure on the beach or in the doorway and froze, praying it could be him. It never was. Except for now. Except for this.

They left Mykonos sooner than Marie would have liked. Jason continued to insist how easy it would be for anyone else to find her if he could. She accepted it after a while, doubting her luck would outweigh his determined state of mind. Marie wasn't used to living life this way. She never though that she ever would. She tried not to think of her past, tried to remind herself that all she had three months ago was a beat-up Mini Cooper, an apartment in Zurich, and an out of date Visa. She'd lost all but the Mini. It was that-losing everything and with no prospects to gain anything else-that had caused such hesitation when faced with the promise of $20,000. Marie had never considered herself one to make hasty decisions, however many times she was thrown into situations that required it. But it had been different then, somehow. The man before her at been almost as lost and hopeless as she was. If she could go back with the knowledge she held now, the inexplicable fact that her own love for someone could very easily result in her death or worse, she wasn't sure what she would do. It was those decisions to put her life at risk that scared her, much more than the thoughts of being captured by whomever she and Jason were evading. The idea that she'd reached the point of caring about nothing but him and building her life with him. Marie tried to look back on the boat to their new location, tried to remember the exact moment that she threw caution to the winds and became someone else. She doesn't know the moment, and she is only beginning to know whom she is now. Leaning against the boat's rail and feeling the breeze comb through her hair, Marie allows herself to turn and look at Jason. His expression is stoic, unattached. She reaches out two fingers to his forearm and smiles when he turns his head to face her. He returns it almost instantly, and she wonders for a harsh moment what he was thinking about before. The moment fades and Marie concentrates instead on his expression, the careful, reassured way he's looking at her. He knows her as who she's become. 

Two months in Portugal, in a small town close to water and full of sunlight. It was as warm and familiar as Greece had been, but without the strange hollow feeling of fear Marie had carried around there. She tells herself the absence of this fear is caused by Jason's presence, despite the fact that she should still be fearful of their lives. Fear is not an emotion she could ever dredge up easily. Before- The minute the thought of `before' crosses Marie's mind she stops, coming to a sudden halt in the kitchen of their small house near the beach. For a moment she stands there, breathing slowly, fingers running across the wooden surface of the counters. She has told herself not to think of her past, only of her future, a future that would require as much thought as she possessed. And yet, it hangs in her mind still; fragments of memories that have been pushed away too often. She snaps out of it and leaves the kitchen, heading into the carpeted living room and sitting down on the couch, suddenly tired. Jason was out running, leaving her with no distractions from unwanted thoughts. Before, Marie was not fearful, and any place that posed a form of fear would be left quickly. Discarded. In a way, it is how she has always wanted to live her life, drifting from place to place. But not like this. She is more than ghost than a person, now, haunted by her constant anonymity. Her name has been changed so many times that she sometimes forgets which one she's going by. During these moments Marie silently curses the fact that cuttings made with a knife onto a fake passport can change someone's entire identity. She knows that Jason revels in it; feels comforted by how much trust the world places in identities. He himself trusts them, thinks meaningless passports and papers can keep them both safe. She wants to trust them too, trust something else than the man who has removed all hope of trust from her life. All because of her own choices. Marie stretches across the worn couch, one finger curving around the bracelet Jason bought for her in the market when they first arrived in Portugal. Things had been better then, for whatever reason. The threat of nightmares had been subdued, and hope had been easing back into her. Marie isn't sure what has changed, but when Jason arrives home later and she sees the familiar tug of guilt in his eyes, she knows. They're leaving. Marie doesn't ask why or how, doesn't argue. She would've before. She would have insisted that they should have stayed. Then again, if she was the same person as before, she wouldn't be here anyway. `I figured-' Jason seems breathless, words short and choked. Marie presses a hand to his shoulder and frowns at the heat of his skin. `I figured we could try Italy, maybe, or-' `I don't mind,' she says slowly. Jason glances up at her, surprised. Perhaps he expected her to argue. Marie offers no explanation for not doing so, other than brushing her lips briefly against his and exiting to their bedroom. She wonders idly if she's changed again. 

Italy had not been a casual guess but a plan, not to Marie's surprise. Three months in Florence had left their mark on Jason, causing more nightmares and scribbled fears. The human man Marie knows and loves has slipped away slightly, but she knows he's trying. Marie's trying, too. When Jason suggests leaving she agrees, pressing the issue when he acted guilty and tried to brush it off and say `never mind'. Marie reminds him that she holds no attachment to anywhere they could go, save for him. It's a lie, and he notices. `Marie.' There is concern in his voice, softness. `You don't have to live like this. We can stay longer.' `I'm used to drifting,' she tells him, for what feels like the thousandth time to her own ears. `Not like this.' It's the exact same thought that harbours at her mind constantly, but still Marie doesn't back down, if only in an attempt to force herself to become used to this. She does. Five cities later, Marie hardly blinks whenever she is given a fake passport, a new location. She knows Jason only feels safe when he's convinced their new destination cannot be traced. It is in Goa that he lets his guard drop, slightly, but noticeably. Marie doesn't ask why, understanding this is his way of making up for his guilt towards her. She makes up for her own guilt by reminiscing, sitting and missing the people she has lost until the realization comes that it is her fault she has done so. No matter how many times Marie comes to this conclusion, it still surprises her, how easily she manages to give everything up. Everything except Jason.

The breeze is drifting through the ornate window, cool and comforting across her face, normally so hot from India's constant sun. There is no light in the room, save for moonlight, but Marie can make out the outlines of Jason, sleeping peacefully beside her for the first time in a week. She doesn't wake him, but looks out the window at the dark sky and glistening stars. It would be beautiful if she didn't know what lay beneath them-another city to be tainted by another nightmare, until it is finally left behind with more relief than regret. But Goa has been different, and they've been there for four and a half months. It's another sign of Jason letting his guard down and doing things they shouldn't, trying to make up for things she doesn't condemn him for doing. Her gaze stays on the stars and a smile lights her face as she remembers all those times she watched them before. Back then it all seemed hopeless. Seemed like she'd never find anything in her life to appreciate as much as the sky, and that if she did, she would inevitably lose it. Being bored with things too easily and getting rid of them too quickly is another old habit she used to posses. Marie doesn't notice when Jason sits up, causing her to jump slightly when she feels his arm slip around her shoulder. He mumbles an apology, craning his face to see her in the dim moonlight. `You okay?' `Mm,' she murmurs, sliding down against his chest and burying her face in the crook of his neck. `Just thinking.' `About?' `Before.' `Do you...' He doesn't finish, but Marie knows the meaning of all the hundreds of questions that could have lurked behind his words, and what they all come down to: regret. If she wouldn't have taken that $20,000 in Zurich, if she'd have left him whenever she had the chance. If she missed her old life, if she blamed him for ending it. She doesn't. `No,' she says slowly, quietly. The arm splayed across her chest tightens slightly. Marie isn't sure how long she lay there, but when she manages to gain track of her thoughts again a single one repeats itself in her head: This is her life now, caused by her own choices. Choices she would still make, given the chance to change them. This is her life. With Jason. In her mind, that's all that matters.

 


End file.
